


Guidelines

by BenevolentErrancy



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, I don't know what to tag this!, One Shot, Undressing, negotiation, pre-pwp??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 21:13:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18169943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentErrancy/pseuds/BenevolentErrancy
Summary: “Before we go ahead with this though,” said Shepard, “we need some ground rules.”“You can't be fucking serious.”





	Guidelines

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, this is a thousand words of nothing, but I'm replaying the original trilogy and was digging through old WIPs and decided to free this to the world rather than let it die quietly in my laptop. I like the idea of Jack/femShep and I just wanted to goof around with potential dynamics a bit, so enjoy.

“Before we go ahead with this though,” said Shepard, “we need some ground rules.”

“You can't be fucking serious.”

Shepard finished up the report she was writing and spun around in her seat to face Jack who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Mimicking the posture, Shepard raised a brow.

“Yeah,” she said, “I am. I'm not asking for a step-by-step mission outline with contingencies, just some guidelines.”

Shoving herself off the wall, Jack stalked towards Shepard and gave a snort. “Good,” she said, settling herself proprietorially in Shepard's lap. “If you wanted that I'd say you'd be better off fucking the turian. He'd probably get off on that. So how about instead you pretend to be less of a girlscout, we skip your stupid guidelines, and get right to the bit we're both here for.”

Shepard just smiled placidly up at her. “Alright, I'll go first then if you don't want to. I don't like people touching my feet.”

That seemed to draw Jack up short, because instead of immediately responding or trying to strip Shepard out of her uniform, she just blinked down at her for a moment. “Your feet,” she repeated incredulously.

“Mhm,” said Shepard, letting her hands trail down Jack's sides. “I hate people touching my feet.”

“Why, you ticklish?”

“What? No. I just don't like people touching my feet during sex – I once had someone try to lick them. I dunno, I guess she liked it but... no. Just no. Feet are not exactly the biggest turn-on for me.”

Jack was smirking now though. “Fine. But I bet you are ticklish. I can just see it: Commander fucking Shepard, headbutting krogan and talking like she's big shit, and I bet you'll break down if someone fucking tickles your feet or some shit.”

Moving only a fraction faster than Jack when she lunged, Shepard managed to snatch up Jack's hands just before they were able to dig into her sides, tipping them both sideways off the chair in the process. With enough force to briefly turn Jack's cackling briefly into wheezing, Jack landed on her back with Shepard on top of her and managed to instinctively dig her knees into Shepard's stomach. Shepard grunted, but followed the momentum and rolled off... unfortunately that momentum lead to her tumbling backwards down the low steps from the office space of the cabin to the sleeping space, and left the commander stumbling up, rather dazed, against her bed.

As Jack rose to her own feet, resisting the urge to let her biotics flicker to life, she watched Shepard warily, wondering what would happen next, did this cross a line for the high and mighty commander? Was Jack about to be sent packing? Scolded? She sneered at the thought – now if they were talking about mood killers... Or would the sexual tension degenerate into violence? Not necessarily a bad thing, but not what Jack wanted right now.

Instead of being angry though, Shepard just huffed a laugh and dropped backwards against the bed, grinning at Jack.

“Nice,” she said. “And it'll be a cold day in hell before I admit to being ticklish.”

Looking away from Jack, like she wasn't the slightest threat, Shepard began pulling off her boots. And yeah, feet weren't exactly a thing for Jack either, but there was something damn appealing about watching Shepard's controlled movements as each boot was slid free, something enticing about watching bare skin appear on someone normally so put-together, especially when it was _just_ enough to leave her wondering what it would look like going up from there, what her bare, muscular calf would look like, or her exposed waist, or the bits in between calf and waist.  _Especially_ the bits between calf and waist. This time not bothering to restrain her biotics, Jack launched herself cat-like from the upper landing onto the bed in a cloud of blue. She was more than eager to assist Shepard with the rest of those pesky clothes; let no one ever call her unhelpful again.

Shepard, however, seemed to have different plans because she stopped once her boots were off and leaned back to look up at Jack again, arms once again crossed. “Now it's your turn though. I don't like feet. What don't you like?”

Jack rolled her eyes. She thought maybe she'd at least managed to distract Shepard from that bullshit, but apparently not. Shepard was nothing if not bloody minded, something Jack found much more appealing Shepard was using her own biotics to literally throw herself into the middle of a battle than she did at this exact moment.

“Fine, priss. No kissing then.”

That made Shepard react; her eyebrows raised. “No kissing?” she repeated.

“Yeah, problem? Like hickeys and sucking and shit are good, but if we're making rules I don't want your lips touching my lips when we're trying to have sex, got it?”

Shepard shrugged. “Got it.”

“What, that's it? You're not going to try to play psychologist on me now?”

“Nope. You don't have to explain what you do and don't want in bed.”

“Can I explain what I _do_ want?”

Shepard's look suggested that she knew exactly what Jack was going to say next, but she said, “By all means,” regardless.

“Great, because I want you out of those clothes and naked right now.” Jack has never made claims at subtleties.

“Well how can I refuse when you ask so nicely,” Shepard crooned, and then finally – _finally_ – Shepard's hands were on her, heavy and strong against her hips, gun callouses catching roughly and deliciously on her tattooed skin; she damn near purred as Shepard's hands started fumbling with Jack's belt and she wasted no time helping Shepard help her out of her pants, cursing when they got caught her boots.

While Jack fought with her boots, Shepard stripped off her coat, undershirt, and bra before coming to sit right behind her Jack, her arms settled around her now bared torso, her chests and chin pressed against Jack's back.

“Considering you don't have much in the way of clothes to begin with, you don't make this easy, do you?” Shepard commented. “Trying to build the tension?”

“Please, like this isn't a better show than you and your _guideline_ talk.”

Shepard just hummed as she moved to help Jack get one of her boots unbuckled, and Jack as a nagging suspicion that Shepard didn't think this would be the last those stupid rules of her were mentioned. In fact, if Jack knew Shepard at all, she had a horrible feeling that she had barely gotten started.

Finally Jack's boots came off and thumped against the floor, followed by pants and buckles and belts.

All the more reason to give Shepard something else to be distracted by, she supposed. And she knew that she could be  _very_ distracting.

 


End file.
